


Watch Me Fly

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Beginnings, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-03 15:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4106026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With no support from family, and her connection to volleyball gone, Michimiya Yui struggles to move on after her final game. She's quit volleyball to concentrate on her future, but still yearns to fly. </p><p>But help arrives in the unlikely form of Karasuno's manager, and maybe, just maybe, there's another way to stretch her wings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch Me Fly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Icie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icie/gifts).



> This is for Icie, who wanted a story about the Girls connected to Karasuno. I hope you enjoy this and it fulfils what you wanted from the prompt.  
> Have a wonderful Summer Holiday. :D

She’d clutched the shirt close, imprinting it on her chest, searching for the scent of exertion, effort, enthusiasm, excitement, but inhaling only the bitter stench of defeat.

It was over.

No tears or wishes or endless prayers to whatever deity was watching could replay the day, could take away her misery or the twist in her guts.

A door opened behind her. She could hear footsteps, and a worried voice asking if she needed anything, whether she was all right, and ‘would you like a chair, dearie, or a cup of tea?’

It wasn’t a voice she recognised, and when she looked over her shoulder, her relief was palpable. No one she knew had seen her break.

“No, thank you, obasan,” she replied, her voice wavering as she faced her kind inquisitor, a cleaner holding a mop.

“Ah, you’re one of the players, I see,” the woman said. “Did you lose?”

_You could say that. Boy, oh boy, did we lose._

She nodded and bowed. “Thank you for your concern. I should be getting back to my team now.”

“There’s always next year, dear.”

 _Not for me._ “Yes, I suppose there is,” Yui replied, and smiled.

 

Smiling through pain had always been her way of dealing with things.

Her parent’s obvious disappointment in her schoolwork for one thing and their lack of enthusiasm for the things that excited her.

“Volleyball!  You’ll end up a muscly girl, Yui-chan. Boys don’t like that.”

“But I’m good at it, Mum. And I’d like to go to Karasuno.”

“She might as well,” her dad said, studying her report card. “No use paying more for a school when she’s barely making the grade.” He scowled again. “Your top marks are in  Art and PE. Soft subjects. The trouble is you don’t put in the effort.”

_My brain turns to fug when I see numbers. I get a headache remembering kanji. But give me a pencil or give me a ball and watch how I fly._

“I-I’ll try harder,” she mumbled, and bit her lip.

 

Watching the boys win hadn’t helped. It wasn’t that she didn’t want them to win. She was truly pleased for Sawamura because she knew his mindset, she recognised his desire, and the way it kept pace with her own.  But he had the steel, and that touch of ruthlessness, she’d never found. Yui wasn’t strong, had never been strong, not when faced with actual people to lead. She could play the points in her head. She could spike and receive and encourage and coach and cheer. But in the end, she could not lead. She could not be every player on the court, and accepting that was breaking her.

And she had tried harder, but sometimes all the trying in the world didn’t do a bloody thing, except made you feel raw.

“They’re amazing!” Hoshi said. “Do you think they’ll win?”

“Hmm, Seijou next. That’ll be tough, but ...” Yui stopped talking, smiling down at the boys and in particular the three she’d watched struggle their way through endless disappointments. Their last tournament. Like hers. The four of them together, the four... No ...

Alongside their Coach, another figure was chivvying the team, getting them into line to take a bow to their supporters.

Yui raised her hand, acknowledging the team as much as her friends, smiling down at them all because however much she was hurting, this was about them. 

And she saw Shimizu staring at her, the smile momentarily gone from her face as she dipped her head in recognition.

***

She was sitting on the steps of the gymnasium, the keys in her hand, watching the way the moon kept flirting with the clouds. It was a cool night, the warmth of the spring day not lasting once the sun had disappeared, but Yui didn’t mind the breeze, or its sting on her arms. Instead, she closed her eyes

“Hey, Michimiya-san, what are you doing here?”

Yui ignored the question, asking instead, “Did the boys get back safely?”

Shimizu nodded. “They’re having a team meeting now.”

“Without you?”

“Hmm, I’m not good for strategy. My job is ...” She grimaced and held up a large kit bag. “Washing the shirts. Or rather taking them to Foothill Store. Ukai-san said I can leave them there, and his mom will take care of them.”

“Cool,” Yui muttered.

 She waited for Shimizu to leave, make an excuse about how time was flying past, but instead she edged the bag closer to the steps with her foot.

“You lost, then.”

There was no pussyfooting with her. No, ‘bad luck’, or ‘I’m sure you tried your best’ but a simple statement of facts.

“Yes.”

“To Shiratora Girls, I heard.”

“Mmm, they’re ... uh ... tough. Just our luck to come -” Yui laughed, hating the self-pity she could hear in her voice.  “Sorry.”

“I’ll leave you,” Shimizu murmured and bent down to pick up the bag. “I expect you want a moment here alone, don’t you? But ... um ...”

“What?”

“If you’d like a coffee, we could get one at the store.”

Yui considered. She checked her watch, almost amused to see she’d had quite a few moments here alone, almost an hour’s worth of moments, and still it wasn’t getting better.

“Coffee would be great, thanks.”

***

 

“They just make me so mad!”

“I expect whacking them on the head’s helped,” Yui replied, giggling. “They won’t be quite so protective-“

“It’s not protective; it’s territorial and idiotic!  A guy called me cute, and they want to fight.”

“Was he cute?”

“Who?”

“The guy.” Yui leant across the table, helping herself to another half spoonful of sugar for her coffee. She stirred slowly, waiting for the response.

“Oh ... I don’t know. I guess.” She twisted a tress of her hair between her fingers before tucking it behind her ear. “I can’t remember. There were a lot of boys there.”

“All saying you were cute, huh?”

“Not that I noticed.” Blowing across the rim of her cup, she took a sip, then smiled. “They may be idiots, but they both played so well today. It was amazing. And Asahi, too.”

“Mmm, I saw.”

Yui heard the clink of Shimizu’s cup as she placed it back in the saucer, and the intake of breath.

“Sorry. I’m supposed to be taking your mind off volleyball, not –“

“Not reminding me how we lost in the first match and how pathetic I am to mind so much,” Yui retorted. Then she gave a tiny grin, hoping it took the bitterness away. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologise for, Michimiya. But ... um ... let’s change the subject, yes?”

“Sure.” With her thoughts on her companion, Yui frowned because it suddenly hit her how little she knew about Shimizu. Barring volleyball, she knew nothing, except that she was in class two, and had a small group of friends who always ate at the same lunch table.

And she was pretty ... beautiful even.

“Why did you become their manager?”

“Hmm, I thought we were keeping away from volleyball?”

“Ah, right. Okay ... do you play sport, Shimizu-san?”

She pushed her glasses up her nose. “I used to play tennis at Junior High.”

“And didn’t continue?” She raised her eyebrows because Karasuno had a decent enough tennis club, and there were courts in Miyagi.

“I picked up an injury.” She wrinkled her nose a little. “And I guess I wasn’t dedicated enough to continue. It’s ... um ... a lonely sport, not like voll-” She grimaced. “Sorry.”

Yui laughed. “We can’t avoid the subject. It’s all we have in common. And I’m fine, really. Okay, I’m not, but us _not_ mentioning it, you trying to take my mind of the subject isn’t going to work. The game is here to stay. Or rather it isn’t anymore.”

“You’re finishing?”

“Mmm, made the decision before the tournament. This is -ha - was my last tournament.” She checked herself, and then stared closer at Shimizu. “You’re quitting, aren’t you?”

“Probably,” Shimizu cocked a small smile at her. “Be good to go out on a high, that’s what made today so special... Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She flapped her hand at her, seemingly casual, but when she spoke again, her words were small, and she could feel a constriction around her chest.  “One thing, make sure they go out fighting, because losing the way we did-” 

Her voice stopped, a hard wedge of words sticking in her throat. Her mouth was too dry for speech, her eyes too wet to see clearly, and to her utter horror she could feel her shoulders shaking, her chest heaving as the reality set in. Again.  Not caring that she was in the middle of the store, and that Shimizu looked in every way embarrassed, Yui sprawled herself across the table on her folded arms, and wept.

“We didn’t just lose,” she sobbed. “It was horrible. But we deserved it. _I_ deserved it because no one cared enough to train, and I should have made them care. And now they feel deflated, defeated, and that’s my fault!”

If she’d been expecting a response, a gesture, maybe a small touch on the arm from Shimizu, she’d have been sorely disappointed. But she hadn’t expected anything, and she wondered if that was the reason she’d broken. Or maybe it was some confused attempt to discomfort the girl into action, but that hadn’t worked either.

Shimizu stared at something on the table, picking at it with her thumbnail. “You’re wrong,” she said at last.

“We lost. I’m right about that,” snapped Yui.

“We have other things in common,” Shimizu said, and as Yui lifted her face off her arms, she frowned. “We must have, surely.”

Despite the tears, and the lump not yet gone from her throat, Yui giggled. “Um, well, we’re female.”

“We wear the same uniform,” Shimizu put in.

“We both drink coffee.”

“I like dancing.”

Yui laughed. “Yes, so do I. My sense of timing is awful, though. I flail a lot.”

“And cats,” Shimizu offered.

“Dammit, and we were getting on so well. I’m allergic,” Yui said and rolled her eyes melodramatically. “Bang go the sleepovers and cosy nights in exchanging make-up tips.”

“We don’t _have_ one. I just like them,” Shimizu replied, and now she stretched her hand across the table and touched Yui on the arm. “So, we could still hang out. If you wanted.” She gnawed her lip. “Might be fun.”

***

The vaguely planned sleepover/chance to hang out was put on hold when the boys lost to Seijou. At first Yui thought Shimizu was avoiding her because of her meltdown over coffee. Certainly every time she went in search of Shimizu (trying to make it look as if she’d wandered accidentally into her classroom) she had her nose buried in a book, or rushed past her saying she was ‘sorry but was incredibly busy right now’.

“Ah well,” Yui sighed. “It’s not as if I don’t have my own friends to hang out with.”

But then again, most of her friends had been connected with volleyball, and Yui found herself on the outside, looking in on the groups and cliques that had formed while she’d been so obsessed.

 _Hell, when did Ami get a boyfriend_? she thought, watching as her lab partner curled her arm around some skinny boy’s waist. _And where do people hang out when they’re not rushing off for clubs?_

Scanning the cafeteria, not seeing even Sawamura or the others, Yui picked up a bento box, paid, then left for the art room. There was a project she was halfway through, one she’d had to neglect when playing volleyball, but now she was free (what an odd word, when she still felt so trapped) and she might as well devote her lunch hours to getting it finished.

Shimizu was there.

Kiyoko Shimizu, who’d never shown as much as a pinkie finger’s interest in art, was sitting on one of the stools, paper in front of her, and nibbling away at a wrap.

“Uh ... hi,” Yui said. “Were you looking for me?”

“Hmm? Oh, no.” She shook her head decisively just in case Yui hadn’t heard the word. “I’m waiting for someone. She’s getting her lunch.”

“Ah. Anyone I know?”

“Maybe. She’s a first year that I’m trying to recruit. Yachi Hitoka,” she replied and gestured to a photographic exhibition.

“Uh ...” Yui cast her mind back, her eyes flickering to the wall. She was bad with names, but not faces, and not if she could form an image in her mind connected with the name. The photographs were arty ones of trees against the sky, sunsets, sunrise,  storm clouds, the sort that most first years did when they didn’t have much experience with the camera. There was nothing that grabbed the attention. Except ... layout.  The purple mounting paper, small detailed pen patterns delineating each corner, quotations torn from newspapers under each picture.

“Blonde with pretty hairclips and a side ponytail?”

“That’s her.” Taking off her glasses, she wiped them on her sleeve before replacing them. “What do you think of her?”

“Uh ...” Again she struck a blank. “I don’t know her. She’s ... um ... diligent, I guess, bit nervy. Sorry, I’ve not really paid much attention, and I haven’t been here that often for lunch break.” Wandering over to the wall she studied the photographs, adding, “She’s put the effort in, so’s probably spent time here outside of normal lessons.”

“She’s bright, too. Class five. Just seems unsure about us. It’s like she wants to get involved but doubts her ability.”

“Uh, well, she can learn off you, can’t she, but ... um ... haven’t you left it a bit late to recruit? She’ll be landing feet first and have no idea of-”

“Like me,” Shimizu said dryly. “They didn’t even have a manager. I took it on, thinking it would just be temporary, and now look at me.” She got up, joining Yui by the photographs, peering intently at one of birds roosting in a tree. “She won’t be unprepared, Yui-san. I’m not leaving.”

“Whoa, really?”

Nodding, Shimizu unclenched her hands rubbing them down the side of her skirt. “Didn’t you know? We’re all staying.”

“Sawamura and Sugawara, too?  Wh-what about college? I th-thought you’d lost? Didn’t that... uh ... Wow!” She could feel her face flushing as her exclamations and questions hit Shimizu in overdrive. “What are they ... uh ... what about you?  Haven’t you got ... uh ... wow, I –I – I’m lost for  words.”

Shimizu snickered a little. “I wouldn’t say that.”

When she smiled, really smiled, it showed in her eyes, lightly crinkling at the sides. Her teeth were even, the tip of her tongue brushing under them, gave an appearance of mischief that Yui had never seen before.

“Why didn’t they tell me?”

“They’ve only just made the decision, and we’re very busy at the moment. Takeda-sensei’s managed to sort out a trip to Tokyo to play in their summer matches. It’s very full on.”

“Sounds amazing,” Yui muttered, raising her guard against the jealousy threatening to pierce her.

To have been able to play, one more time. To stand on court. To have that final chance again. To fly.

Then she blinked. _There is no point thinking about that now. Hell, what was I saying?_

“Tokyo?  Are you playing those Nekoma guys again?”

“Mmm, and some others. Pretty much all over the summer, so –” She broke off, her attention diverted by someone else entering the room. Following her gaze, Yui saw the slight figure of Yachi Hitoka as she bowled through the door, sweaty and pink in the face as if she’d been running.

“Sh-Shimizu-san. I am so sorry. I apologise. I was delayed. I am sorry for keeping you waiting. The queue was very long, and – Ahh! You have company. I’ll ... um ... go.“

“Yachi, come back,” called Shimizu, another smile flooding her face.  “I was a little early, and it really doesn’t matter.” She raised her hand to fiddle with her hair, then using it as cover whispered, “Michimiya-san, can you .... um ... say hello. I think she’s intimidated by you.”

“Me?” Yui whispered back. “You’re the manager.”

“But you’re the art student. She must know who you are, and how good you are.”

 _Oh... OH!_ “Okay.”

“Yachi Hitoka, right? I was admiring your work,” Yui said and breezily stepped forward. “I’m Michimiya Yui.”

“I know,” she squeaked. “Hmm, umm, ummm, hmmm. Uh ...”

“Michimiya-san plays volleyball.”

“Ah, played,” Yui replied, and wrinkled up her nose as she grinned at Yachi. “Shimizu-san tells me you’re going to be the next manager.”

“Uh ... hmm, well, umm, I ... um ... I don’t know. It’s ... um ...it’s a big responsibility.”

“You’ll be fine. It’s easy looking after the idiot boys. You have Sawa-chan and Sugawara to help you out. They’re great guys. Asahi-san, too, except he’s kind of ... um ... kind of ...”

“Scary looking!”

“Uh, I guess, but not when you know him. He’s one of the sweetest guys, honest.”

But Yachi was still shaking and Yui could see her helpful talk, really wasn’t helpful at all. She cast Shimizu a despairing glance, but she appeared tongue-tied, so Yui searched her mind and suddenly remembered the last time she’d seen Shimizu in here, rushing around trying to get together a poster.

Yui smirked. “Uh, Yacchan, you really have to take pity on the boys team, they’re in desperate need of someone like you.”

“Me? Why?”

Giggling, Yui leant closer, pretending to whisper but making sure Shimizu could hear. “Have you seen their recruitment poster? Sawamura-san was mortified. He had the basketball captain taking the piss for weeks, running up and down flailing his arms up in the air. Very uncool. And that was down to Shimizu-san.”

“Hey, it was Suga. He drew it!” Shimizu protested, but she was laughing, too.

“Well, he’s always been a little off the wall. You should have asked me, but ... uh .... they won’t need to, if you take over, Yacchan.”

“OH!” Now ridiculously overcome with excitement, nerves and what appeared to be excruciating embarrassment, Yachi took a step back, then another and knocked over an easel (fortunately there was nothing on it). In the confusion, as Yachi panicked, stuttering what seemed like seventy sorrys in a row, Shimizu tugged on Yui’s sleeve.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I hadn’t thought about that, but playing to her strengths rather than stressing the club was a good idea.”

“Ah, no sweat. She seems a good kid.”

“Yes, she is, and it’ll be nice to have female company in Tokyo.”

She bent down, picking up a last paintbrush that had landed at her feet and handed it to Yui. “Yachi and I can talk anywhere, we’ll let you get on with your work,” she said as she guided Yachi towards the door.  But when she reached the corridor, Shimizu looked back over her shoulder. “I’ve been really busy lately with this trip, but I’d love to catch up with you before we go.”

“Uh...” And now for some reason, Yui felt as cack-handed and clumsy as Yachi. Was it all down to Shimizu? Did she have that vibe that reduced everyone around her to mush? Swallowing, Yui tried a grin, hoping she didn’t look like an idiot. “Yeah, I’d like that. When?”

“This weekend? Is that good for you?”

Yui pretended to consider. It would hardly look cool to splutter out an immediate yes, making it so obvious that she really had no plans now or in the near future. “Yes ... yes, I think it is.”

“It’s a date, then,” Shimizu said, and once again, her eyes crinkled at the sides as she let out a delicious small gurgle of laughter.

***

Going to the park was Yui’s idea. The weather was good, warmer than usual, and Yui wanted to make the most it, get some sunshine on her limbs, rather than stay inside watching a film.

She was eating cherries when Yui turned up, dipping her hand into a paper bag, pulling out a dark purple, almost black pair dangling them from her long fingers before pursing her lips around one.

Dark cherries, not the ruby red Yui ate, the ones her mom bought at the store, dumping them on the kitchen table still in the plastic wrapped punnet.

Not these garnet jewels, direct from Hokkaido.

White even teeth, sinking into the sweet flesh. Purple juice staining her lips. She looked utterly content, and not at all discomforted to be alone. And for a moment, Yui wondered whether to turn around and leave, because there was something so serene about Shimizu that she felt unnerved, intimidated even.

_We have nothing in common._

But then Shimizu looked up. “Hi there!”

“Sorry, I’m late. The bus was crowded and I had to wait for another.”

“No problem,” Shimizu replied, licking at the juice on her lips. “I’m sorry I started, but I can’t resist cherries, and these are spectacular.” She proffered the bag. “Want one?”

Helping herself to a pair, Yui sank to the ground, not elegantly as she was sure Shimizu did, but in a graceless heap, with knees bent and to each side. She bit into the cherry, sucking it through her teeth, tasting the sweet juice on her tongue.

“Gah, these are good. Not bitter at all. Where did you find- ” She studied Shimizu’s paper bag, noting the logo of the expensive deli in the town centre. “Wow, that’s ...um ...”

“My mom works there,” Shimizu said. “She gets a discount, or leftovers.  I brought some really good sushi rolls, too. And wraps. They’re not today’s, but they’re still good.”

“Gotta be better than the crisps and apples I bought,” Yui said, laughing. “But I did make chocolate cookies.” Going to her backpack, she pulled out a plastic cake box. “Kind of a disaster. They broke when I tried to get them off the baking tray.”

Picking up half a cookie, Shimizu crunched it in her mouth, and swallowed.

“They taste _good_ ,” she said, then picked up another one. “We should ... uh ... start with these, I think.”

“My mom wouldn’t approve,” Yui said.

“Nor would mine. She’d insist on the sushi rolls first, but  they’re not here and upside down meals are essential for a picnic,” Shimizu decreed.

They munched companionably through a biscuit each, and then Shimizu shifted her position, so she was no longer sitting, but propped on her elbows, her legs out in front of her.

It was then, Yui realised Shimizu was wearing trousers, despite the heat, and that beside her, with shorts barely covering her thighs, she felt clunky and awkward again.

“Daichi says you have a brother,” Shimizu said.

“Um, yes. One. He’s a year younger than me.”

“Is he at Karasuno?” She looked puzzled.

Shaking her head, finding the biscuit in her mouth had suddenly become unswallowable, Yui pulled out a water bottle, and took a swig.

“He’s at Aobajousai.”

“Really? Wow, does he play volleyball? I didn’t notice any Michimiyas in their squad.”

“He doesn’t play,” Yui muttered, then aware she might have sounded rude, she smoothed a smile across her face. “He’s got brains, apparently and my parents thought an elite school might suit him better.”

Shimizu looked as if she was about to say something else, but then, after pressing her lips together, she helped herself to more cherries. “When I was little, I used to drape these over my ears,” she said, “and say I was a princess.”

“Me, too,” Yui replied, and reached for a strand. “Or, I’d hang them from my nose and pretend I was an elephant. See! And then you have to ...” She stuck out her tongue, licking one of the cherries, tugging it down to pull it into her mouth. “Ta-da!”

“Neat trick,” Shimizu said, “but can you do this?” Breaking the cherries in two, she popped one, stalk and all into her mouth. Yui saw her throat constrict and for a moment, she wondered if she was about to choke, but then Shimizu palmed the stone, while continuing to move her mouth, as if she was eating something, or chewing gum. She was looking up to the sky, and then downwards as she wrinkled her nose. Then, finally, when Yui was starting to think Shimizu had cracked, she poked out her tongue, adorned with the cherry stalk, tied in a knot.

“Oh gods. How did you do that?”

“Years of practice,” Shimizu said, holding her hand to her brow. “Toil, effort, and many obstacles in my way. It’s my greatest skill.”

“Ha! Don’t show the idiot boys!” Yui said.  “They’ll be even more uncontrollable.”

“Huh? Why not?”

“Um...” Yui slugged some more water, but watching Shimizu’s lips, her tongue, her white teeth, and the giggling light in her eyes as she prepared her trick, had unearthed a new feeling inside of her. It was like the butterflies that appeared if she went too high on a swing, but softer as if bubbles were popping on her skin. And warmer too, like delicious melted chocolate.

 _Stop it,_ she thought, and shook her head. “You must have heard the story.”

“What story?”

“Tying cherry stems into knots with your tongue is supposed to mean you’re a good kisser ... or ... uh ...” Furious to find she as now blushing, probably a deeper shade of red than the cherries, Yui  turned away, flopping onto her back, and tipping water over herself in the process.

“Shit!” she yelped and sat straight up, trying to brush the water off her shirt.

“I have tissues.”

“Nah, it’ll dry soon. “Just ... umm ... I’m so clumsy. How the hell I managed to play volleyball without tripping over my feet is a mystery.”

“Maybe it’s because it’s something you love,” Shimizu replied. “And you played on instinct. You’re a very graceful player, you know? I don’t see that with the boys. It’s mainly all power and fury.”

“You’ve watched me?”

“Mmm, a few times. I wanted to know what I was getting myself into before I became manager, but was too shy to watch the boys. I barely knew anyone there, and felt a bit dumb, so I hovered outside your gym once or twice and picked up the rudiments of the game, the rules and things.” She stopped speaking and sat up. “I saw your Prefecture Tournament match against Johzenji Girls.”

“My first game as captain. We won.”

“Yes, you were very good that day. The team were-”

“Unfocused, I know. I never quite got the hang of that aspect of being captain. Sawamura’s much better than me.”

“Obsessed, you mean,” Shimizu said drily.

“You have to be to win,” Yui replied. “Maybe that’s –”

Closing her eyes, she took a breath. This wasn’t supposed to be about volleyball, but a day with a friend (yes, she was a friend) finding other things to talk about.

Shimizu touched her hand. “What will you do now?”she asked, her voice as soft as her fingertips.

“Draw, finish my project, pray it’s enough to get me a scholarship to Art College,” she said, and sniffed. “My parents won’t pay. They want me to do a secretarial course, or find a job in a bank.

“My mom’s actually pleased I’ve stopped playing. She reckons it’s ruined my figure, especially my thighs, and no boy will want me now.”  She laughed. “I’m not even eighteen, but she’s already got me married off and out the house.”

As Shimizu clasped her hand, Yui kept her eyes shut, suddenly afraid that if she opened them, the other girl would move away, and she’d be unable to feel her, to smell the faint cherry blossom perfume, or to hear her breaths.

“You can play again,” she murmured. “It’s not gone forever.”

“I know, but sometimes I don’t think I’m strong enough for the heartbreak,” She gulped and then smiled ruefully, finally opening her eyes to see Shimizu staring at her, her eyes glimmering. “It’s so stupid to talk about it in terms of heartbreak, but I feel so sad, you know? Like something has literally been wrenched from my heart. There’s a void in my life. I feel I’ve been ... I dunno ... tethered. I’ve had my wings clipped.”

“It’s not stupid. You need time to heal,” Shimizu said. “And maybe something else to fill your heart.”

And still she didn’t remove her hand, which instead of feeling cool, as Yui had expected was clammy. (What the heck? When had she thought about Shimizu’s hands and how they’d feel?)

Seeing Shimizu’s slow blink, and then a faint petal pink blush settling on her cheeks, Yui stared straight at her. “Like a boyfriend? You sound like my mom.”

“N-not necessarily, but something else. Maybe this summer is a chance to have fun, Yui. Shake the volleyball court dust off your clothes and kick up your heels.” She leant closer. “Learn to fly a different way.”

And now she was so near that all it would take would be Yui to tilt up her chin, and she could brush her lips on Shimizu’s cheek. That thought flashed through her brain. Both exhilarating and terrifying and again the bubbles in her stomach popped and fluttered.

_I need to move away._

But she didn’t. Instead she held her breath, trying to quell her pulse, and the heart thumping so hard against her ribs, she thought they’d crack.

It was Shimizu who moved, not away, but closer still. Yui heard a faint intake of breath the moment before she felt soft lips brush not her cheek but her mouth.

A gentle touch. Fleeting. Almost not there, something she could well have imagined, and yet Yui could taste cherries.

Her breath hitched.

“I’m so sorry,” Shimizu gasped. She wrenched away, dropping Yui’s hand and scuttled backwards on her knees.”Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

“No ... Shimizu ... stop... it’s okay ...” Yui laughed. She couldn’t help it. The sight of Shimizu, so collected always, a flustered mess over a mismatch of lips, and accident because surely that’s what it was and there was no way the girl could ever have meant ...because Yui was nothing and she was -

“Beautiful.”

“What?”

“Um ... you ... no. Sorry.” She bit her lip, now aware she was as flustered at Shimizu and pretty sure the flush suffusing her face was not prettily pink, but an odd crimson. “Why are _you_ sorry?” she squeaked.

“You know why.”

“What?”

“I kissed you. I’m sorry, it’s- I didn’t. I shouldn’t. It was an accident. I don’t know what happened.”

“Uhm ... okay.”  She touched her lips tentatively with her fingers, thinking how odd it was that such a brief touch could have burnt her so. And she wondered if Shimizu had been similarly affected because she still wouldn’t look up, or catch her gaze, and the friendship, which that afternoon had begun to bloom, was threatening to wilt and die on the grass beneath them.

“I brought my sketchbook,” she said at last. “You don’t mind if I draw for a bit, do you?”

“Not at all,” Shimizu mumbled. “I’ll ... um ... I have some things to read through for the trip.”

“Cool.” Yui swallowed, then reached into her bag, keeping her eyes firmly off Shimizu’s face.

It was awkward, but at least she hadn’t left.

“When are you off?” she asked instead.

“Friday night.” Her voice was back to normal as she rifled through a sheaf of papers. Then she cleared her throat. “Did I tell you Yachi’s coming with us?  She’s going to be the next manager.”

“I thought so. I saw her poster with Hinata. Very clever.”

It would be okay. If they could talk like this, keeping everything light then any misunderstandings would disappear.

But as she sketched flowers, grass, the crumpled paper bag holding the rest of the cherries, the tree behind them, and the shadows playing on the grass, Yui was only aware of the one thing she wanted to draw, but didn’t dare attempt.

***

Yui and Shimizu had parted at the gates of the park, the tension gone, having finished the food, and chatted a little more. And yet, for some reason, in the space of the Saturday evening to Monday morning, the awkwardness had returned. Yui was aware, as she walked into school that she was searching for Shimizu but what she wasn’t sure was whether she was avoiding or seeking her out. As it was, Shimizu proved elusive, and Yui resigned herself to solo lunches in the Art Block, ostensibly working on her project.

It was on Wednesday, after she’d screwed up the sixth sketch of Shimizu that she realised that perhaps she had a small problem.

“It was an accident, and she regretted it at once,” she murmured, remembering the horror on Shimizu’s face and the very real need to backtrack, to pull away to put as much distance as possible between them.

_And I regret it! She’s a girl. Why am I dwelling on this? Why can’t I forget this?_

“And why am I dreaming that something more happened?”

Because at night, her defences down as she tried to sleep, the only memory that soothed her cherry sweet kisses as lips devoured her.

With determination, she returned to her sketchpad. In the past she’d practised or run to get rid of frustration, but stuck at school and no gym option available, all she had was her art.

 _I need to work through this,_ she thought, _because blocking it out isn’t working. And if Shimizu’s avoiding me, then I’ll have to sort this out myself._

She started to sketch, her pencil hesitant at first, as if marks on the paper would make the wisp of a dream concrete.

 _Cherries,_ she thought. _And the swirl of her hair. Claret red against black, and the pearlescent skin._

“Get a grip! She’s not a goddess, you idiot!”

***

On Friday, finally satisfied with both the composition and how she’d captured Shimizu, Yui began to paint, trying to imbue the colours of that day, the dark hue of the cherries, the shine on Shimizu’s hair, and the sparkle in her blue eyes as they glimmered through her glasses. She’d added a deeper stain to the lips, cherry juice dripping, and porcelain white teeth.

“Michimiya, that’s so beautiful.”

She turned, more than a little perturbed at the voice because of all the people that could have seen her painting (barring its subject) this was the most perceptive of people.

“Sugawara, why are you here?”

He was leaning against one of the counters; obviously, he hadn’t just arrived, and she mentally cursed herself for listening to music, causing her to miss his footsteps.

“Yacchan said she had some photographs of Hinata and Kageyama, roughs she took for her poster. I was interested, that’s all.”  He stepped closer, a smile on his face as he studied the picture. “That really is excellent. How did you get Shimizu to pose for you? She’s so reserved.”

“Um ... I didn’t. And she doesn’t know, Suga, so ... uh ...”

“But isn’t she going to find out?”

“Why would she?”

“It’s your final year,” Suga replied, sounding half astonished, half amused. “Um ... don’t you have an exhibition at the end of it? I remember you dragging us all to the one last year. ”

“Well, yes, there is one, of course, but only the pictures I’m going to show and this ... um ... this is practise more than anything. I doubt I’ll even finish.”

“Really?” He didn’t have to raise his eyebrows quite so high, did he?

“What’s that look for?”

“You seem to be putting a lot of effort into something that’s only practise,” he chided mildly.

“That’s what practise is,” she retorted, suddenly feeling defensive. “Anyway what do you know about art?”

“My poster of Daichi is famous,” he said loftily.

“Famously awful!  Has he forgiven you yet?”

“I think so,” he said. And then he coughed. “Anyway I’m not here to discuss my artistic talent, but, honestly, your painting is astonishing. I’m sure if you asked Shimizu, she’d –”

“You’ve just said you’re not here to talk about artistic talent, so why not take those photos and leave me in peace!” she snapped, feeling more and more rattled.

“Why cherries?” he asked, showing no sign of taking offence or of leaving the art room.

“Why not!”

“Hey, I’m interested, that’s all. I don’t see dark cherries around here, so I wondered why you’d used them. Is it just a colour thing for contrast?”

“Um ... yeah, I guess, but also she likes them. We were eating some last Saturday and-”

“Oh...” He trailed away, and for Suga he looked off balance, astonished even, and the merriment in his eyes had dampened down replaced with curiosity. “I didn’t know you two were particularly good friends.”

“You jealous?” she mocked, taking a sideswipe at him. “That’s it, isn’t it? You like Shimizu-san. That’s why you’re interested in the painting. Maybe you should be the one talking to her, Sugawara, not me, eh?  Have you made a confession? Only there’s some pink paper in the drawer over there, and I’m sure even you could make your handwriting legible enough for her to-”

It was his turn to laugh, the sound hushing her as he leant further forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Shimizu is a very beautiful girl, Michimiya, but she’s really not my type.”

“How can she not be? She’s stunning!”

“Hmm, just take my word for it,” he said, adding in a whisper, “You sound very defensive over her.”

She flicked his face with her fingers, pushing him away. “Get lost! You’re a fricking wind-up merchant today, Koushi!”

“Ahh, interesting,” he said. “No one ever uses my first name unless they _deliberately_ want to aggravate me.”

“Get the message and leave then!”

“Okay, okay,” he replied, but then as he reached the door he sighed. “I’m ... um ... not really here for the photographs.”

“What?”

“Micchan,” he said, reverting to the name Daichi occasionally used, a reference back to Junior High. “No one has seen you around for a while. I know it must be hard with club activities gone, but ... um ... we’re all still here, you know, if you need to talk, or something.”

She swallowed down the soft lump forming in her throat at the sudden change in his tone, a tone she knew was sincere, because for all his teasing, Suga was genuine. She sniffed a little.

“I’m okay. Besides, you lot are always practising, so how do you know I’m not around?”

He took a pace forwards, resting one hand on the tabletop. “Shimizu mentioned it. I was curious because she went out of her way to talk about something other than our trip and someone not on the team. She seemed concerned and a little on edge.  Have you had a row?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then ... um ... any chance you can talk to her? She’s fretting over something, but obviously isn’t going to tell us.”

“She could come here.”

“Yes, she could, but at the moment she’s burying herself in everything to do with our trip.”

“She won’t want to talk to me, then. And I am trying to get on with my work, too,” Yui replied, and turned back to the canvas, frowning because she wasn’t sure she’d painted Shimizu’s beauty spot in the right place.

“On a painting that isn’t part of your final piece. Mmm, I can see why that takes priority,” Suga said drily.

Pressing her lips together, she pulled out her phone, which had just begun to vibrate.

 “I’ve sent you her number,” Suga called as he dodged out of the door. “ _She_ might be too busy, and you _clearly_ are, but it takes seconds to text a ‘sorry’, or a ‘hi there’, so I’m sure even you have time for that.”

“JUST GO AWAY, SUGAWARA!” she yelled.

But his only response was more laughter and the sound of his footsteps running through the corridor.

***

Yui stared at her phone, for how long she wasn’t sure, but here in her bedroom, half past four in the afternoon, it seemed time had stopped or maybe lengthened as she waited.

It wasn’t that she’d said too much, possibly it hadn’t been enough, but she’d wanted to keep it light, so a quick, ‘hi this is Yui, good luck with the trip’, had seemed a good idea at the time.

_But what if it was too casual?_

_Or too much? She might think I’ve stolen her number? Or been stalking her._

_Bloody hell, Suga, what have you made me do?_

_But I’d have sent the same message to anyone. Well, not anyone, but certainly to Sawamura. Except I haven’t.  Shit, I’ll do that now, so it doesn’t look odd. And to Suga and Asahi._

_No, not Suga – bastard._

_Okay, where’s Sawamura’s number?_

_‘Beep.’_

Shimizu’s name popped up on her screen. Yui fumbled her fingers to unlock, not at all amused to find her hand suddenly shaking like jelly and as clammy as a squid’s.

<<‘ **Thank you.’ >>**

_Great, that’s it. Well, I’ve tried._

‘Beep.’

_Oh!_

**< <‘I hope ur ok. Sorry I should have talked to you this week but ive been busy.’>>**

Um ...

<<‘I’m cool been busy myself. Art and stuff.’>>

**‘Is it going well?’**

‘Yes.’

She hit send too quickly. Did that sound rude?

Quickly she tapped out another text, asking what time they were leaving.

**< <‘Midnight. I hope i can sleep on the coach.’>>**

<<‘Take your earphones. The idiot boys will be noisy.’>>

**< <‘Good plan. Shame ur not coming along. I’m sure youd keep them in line’>>**

_Huh? What... why had she said that?_

Another text followed on quickly.

**< <‘Suga was telling me you shouted at him today. He reckons ur scarier than Sawamura.’>>**

<<‘Suga is a troublemaker.’>>

**< <‘He’s perceptive.’>>**

_What the hell does that mean?_

<<‘Is he?’>>

There was a long pause, so long that Yui became convinced Shimizu had gone, or her phone had run out of charge. Her head started to pound, not with pain, but with a growing sense of either anticipation or impending doom. The mention of Suga unnerved her.

_‘Phring Phring!’_

“Hi.” Shimizu’s voice on the other end of the phone was breathy, shakily unsure, but it was there, and she was talking.

“Um ... hi there,” Yui replied. “Are you okay?”

“I’m in the art room,” Shimizu replied. “Suga kind of hinted and Yacchan had a key.”

Oh shit!

“This painting... um ...”

“I’m sorry, I’ll destroy it. It’s not meant to-”

“It’s amazing. I – I never realised you were so talented. Not at art, I mean, and I ... my gods, Yui, that’s _me_.”

She gulped wondering if she could pretend it was a mistake, that she’d drawn someone else and Shimizu had got it wrong. _Idiot! As if there are two girls around Karasuno that I’ve shared cherries with._ “Um ... yeah ... and that’s okay, is it?”

Yui heard a small catch of breath and then that gurgle of laughter, faint but warming.

“Of course. I’m flattered.”

“I should have asked you, but ... uh ... I guess I’ve been keeping my head down.”

“Me, too.”

They both paused and the silence pervaded the distance between them. Yui wasn’t sure whether to say goodbye and hang up, but at the forefront of her mind was the notion that Shimizu had called her. Shimizu was currently staring at the painting and not minding at all. So maybe, just maybe, she had no regrets.

“Can we meet up?” the words burbled out of her mouth on instinct, a mistake, probably, but then instinct had served her well in matches.

She could easily give an excuse. She was leaving for Tokyo in eight hours, and that was enough of a reason to say she had too much still to do, but after a pause, Shimizu agreed, and Yui could hear the smile in her voice.

“I’ll be at the gym at seven, after our final practise session,” she informed her. “See you then?”

“Mmm, I’ll be there.”

***

She arrived before seven, but instead of hanging around the school gates, she bowled up to the boy’s gym, hesitating only when she reached the steps. It had been a deliberate act, coming here early because what if Shimizu felt uncomfortable seeing her alone?   So hanging around outside, making sure all the team could see her, made it less ... what was the word? Intense?  Provocative? Meaningful?

_Oh no, what if she thinks I don’t actually care at all, that I’m only here because the team are leaving, that – No, it’s okay, I have a present, which can be taken whichever way she wants._

_I can keep this light. We’re friends, that all._

“Hi, I thought I saw you.” The door had creaked open, and Shimizu stood at the top of the steps, pooled in the light from the gym.

“Oh. You’ve finished already?”

“They’re getting changed.  Do you want to come in?”

“Um,” she hesitated, then swallowed down the acceptance. “I’d rather speak to you first. If that’s okay.”

Closing the door behind her, Shimizu made her way down the steps. Her face appeared to be expressionless, but as she stepped out of the shadows and into the evening light, Yui saw a splash of colour diffused on her cheeks, two small pink patches, that Yui didn’t think were caused by exertion.

“I brought you a present,” Yui muttered.

“Why?”

“Um.” Hell, good question. “For not objecting when you saw the painting. For agreeing to see me. To ... uh ... wish you luck. Gah, it’s not even much, Shimizu-san, and you can share it with the guys if you want.”

“It’s not a diamond necklace then. Damn!” Shimizu said and grinned. “Sorry, I’m being facetious, but you’ve kind of unnerved me. I mean, it’s great, but I didn’t expect anything.”

Muttering that this was now going to be an anti-climax, Yui delved into her backpack, and pulled out a bag. One made of brown paper and with an exclusive logo on the front.

“Cherries?” Shimizu guessed.

“Uh-huh. For the journey.”

“I’m not wasting them on the guys,” Shimizu protested. She turned to Yui, laughing a little. “Shall we walk? I have a few minutes before I need to get back.”

For some reason they found themselves back at the girl’s gym where three weeks before Yui had sat more broken and alone than she’d ever been in her life. She’d turned up here looking for solace, some kind of connection to see her through the rest of her school days. But the fact of the gyms existence had only served to remind her of the desperate failure in her heart and head, and she’d felt more desolate than any time after the loss.

But salvation had appeared in the unlikely form of a girl lugging sweaty volleyball shirts, who’d stopped to ask how she was.

“They’re a thank you gift,” Yui said at last. “For finding me when I was lost.”

“It wasn’t hard,” Shimizu said. “You were easy to see.” She sat on the steps, then holding out her hand pulled Yui down next to her. “Cherry?”

“No, they’re yours.”

“And so I can eat them with who I want.” She nudged the bag at her. “Go on.”

“No, they’re for you, K-Kiyoko-kun. For you to enjoy,” she said, a little nervously and laughed to lighten to mood. “But don’t tie cherry stalks with your tongue, because you know what the guys will think.”

“Ha! They won’t get a chance. ” Draping two pairs of cherries over her ears, Shimizu sucked in her cheeks, affecting a haughty expression as she stared down her nose at Yui.  “I am Princess Kiyoko and I command you to eat.”

“Most beautiful Princess, how can I dare disagree?” Giggling, Yui picked up a double strand and hooked them on her nose. “And I’m an elephant,” she said, extending her tongue to catch one cherry, hooking it into her mouth.

The juice crushed onto her lips, one drop dripping, but before she could chase it with her lip, Shimizu had placed her thumb there, wiping it away so very gently.

“Beautiful?  Do you really think so?” she asked.

There was an intensity in her eyes, a burning in the blue, like clear ice, before it melted, cool but if you got too close it would burn.

And maybe now was the time to declare, to make her confession even if she had no petal pink paper. “Oh yes,” Yui breathed, “so very beautiful.”

“Yui-chan,” Shimizu said. “If I kiss you now, it won’t be an accident. I-is that okay?”

She didn’t answer, at least not with words, but inched closer, her lips guiding her towards Shimizu. They touched, not accidentally, hesitated and then as the delicious scent of cherries wrapped around them, Yui felt Shimizu’s lips part. Whether it lasted seconds, or minutes, an hour, or perhaps a week, Yui didn’t know. The only sensation, the only thought in her mind was that now she could fly again.

 


End file.
